Stolen Children

Chapter 3

Detective Chief Inspector Matilda Darke had sneaked out of the police station and driven home. She turned from the smooth tarmacked road and down the bone-shaking dirt track that led to the former farmhouse. Daniel Harbison’s dirty Ford van was already parked outside. She smiled as soon as she saw him and hoped she didn’t make a pillock of herself as she tried to park the Range Rover in such a tight space. This was her second four-wheel drive in less than a year and she still couldn’t get used to how much bigger it was than the Fiats she had previously driven.

‘You’re all done then?’ She asked as she climbed down from the car.

‘Yep. All done and dusted.’ He held out his hand with a bunch of shiny new keys in his palm.

Daniel Harbison was an old friend of her husband’s. They’d worked together as architects many times over the years, collaborating on projects and running ideas past each other. Following his death, Matilda had felt a change of house was needed in order to try to get on with picking up the pieces of her life. She’d fallen in love with the ramshackle farmhouse the second she stumbled upon it. It needed a great deal of work to make it habitable and Daniel was the first name that had come to mind.

Adjacent to the house was a building used as a double garage. Matilda was happy to leave it as it was. However, Daniel was itching to get his hands on it. The roof, although in urgent need of replacing, was structurally sound, and had enough space to turn it into a self-contained flat. Matilda was against the idea. The thought of having a tenant, especially one so close, was the antithesis of moving here in the first place. Daniel had told her, many times, that it would add thousands to the asking price, should she wish to sell in the future. She’d make a fortune. Eventually, she relented and gave him free reign to do whatever he wanted with it. His face had lit up like a five-year-old on Christmas morning. Now, after seven months, it was complete.

During his time at Matilda’s house, showing her plans, asking her to approve materials and costs, they had grown closer. They had been out to dinner on a few occasions and he’d spent the night once when his van wouldn’t start – in the spare room, of course. They’d shared a couple of kisses and although nothing had been said, there was an underlying agreement that things were moving, incredibly slowly, in the direction of them becoming a couple.

Matilda’s husband, James, had died from a brain tumour in 2015. He was the love of her life and she missed him every day. She had no intention of marrying again, and there wasn’t a single man on God’s earth who could come close to replacing him.

Daniel had been divorced for five years. His wife packed a bag and left one day without warning. He’d returned home from work to find a note on the kitchen table telling him she was incredibly unhappy, and she was leaving in order to find herself. He didn’t hear another word from her until nine months later when he received the divorce papers through the post. By that point, he was over her disappearance. He signed them without giving it another moment’s thought.

‘Would madam like to take a look around her charge?’

‘My charge?’ She smiled.

‘Surely you’re going to rent it out.’

‘I told you, I have no desire to be a landlady.’

‘You’ll change your mind once you’ve seen what I’ve done with it. It’ll be criminal to leave it empty.’ There was a twinkle in his eye.

Matilda couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. He led the way to the double garage with Matilda following. As she looked at the ornate brick work and newly tiled roof, she had to admit he’d done an amazing job.

Daniel was two years younger than Matilda at forty-two years old. He was six foot three, broad shouldered and built like a rugby player. He was solid and it was all muscle. He didn’t only design the buildings, he took a hands-on approach too and helped with the construction. He liked nothing more than getting his hands dirty on site.

He unlocked the oak door at the side of the building. They stepped in and Matilda inhaled the newness of freshly laid carpets and wood.

They were faced with a solid oak staircase with hand-carved spindles and newel post.

‘I’ve stolen some of the garage space to make a small utility room behind the stairs. You don’t need to see in there unless you have a fetish for boilers.’

‘I think I can by-pass that room.’

‘Up we go then.’

Daniel led the way. Matilda followed and had to bite her lip to stop her from thinking lewd thoughts when her eyeline landed on Daniel’s firm bum tightly wrapped in a pair of torn, dirty jeans.

The kitchen was larger than she had expected. An oak work top and matching cupboard fronts. A fitted fridge and cooker. A small hallway led to a cosy living room and through there, another small hallway led to two bedrooms, one master, one box room, and a compact bathroom. It had all the mod cons. Every space was utilised perfectly.

‘Daniel, I’m speechless,’ Matilda said, staring in awe.

‘It was a toss-up between fitted wardrobes in the master bedroom or a small en suite. I decided on the wardrobes.’

‘Good choice.’

‘You’ve got skylights, drop lights, sockets with USB ports, solar panels on the roof and the glass in the skylights is self-cleaning. I know the rooms aren’t huge, but I’ve added some fun details here and there for it to stand out above the norm, and those views are stunning.’

‘You’ve enjoyed spending my money, haven’t you?’ She smiled.

‘I really have. So, what are you going to do with the place?’

‘I have absolutely no idea.’

‘You could put it on Airbnb. With those views, people will be queuing up to spend a weekend here.’

‘And have complete strangers not ten yards from my bedroom? I don’t think so.’

‘Put an advert in the quality press then? I’m sure a junior doctor or a young lawyer would love to live in here.’

She thought for a moment. ‘I’ll think about it.’

‘Good. Well, I think we should celebrate, and I just so happen to have a bottle of champagne in my van.’

‘How convenient.’

‘Would you like to do the honours?’

‘What do you want me to do? Smash it over the front door like I’m launching a ship?’

‘And waste all that lovely alcohol?’ He stopped at the top of the stairs and turned to Matilda. ‘I was thinking, how about I cook for us tonight?’

‘Really?’ Matilda’s eyes widened. As much as she liked Daniel, she couldn’t get used to having a man in her life again, even if the situation between them was so casual it was almost comatose.

‘Yes. Nothing fancy, obviously, just a nice, light meal.’

He smiled and Matilda found herself unable to resist. His smile was infectious; it lit up his face and made his eyes sparkle.

‘I’d like that.’

‘Good. Erm …’

‘Yes.’

‘Would it … you know, I mean, would you mind …’ he looked at his shoes, his face reddened in embarrassment as he spluttered. ‘I’d like … if you don’t mind that is …’

‘Daniel, do you want to kiss me?’ Matilda asked. Her mouth dried as she felt her heart thumping loudly in her chest.

He looked up at her. ‘I would. Yes. Only if you want to.’

She took a tentative step forward and stretched her neck up, tilting her head until she was level with him.

He placed his hands on her arms and held her firmly. She felt a trickle of electricity run through her. He kissed her. His stubble pressed against her face. It was soft, gently passionate and awkward.

She felt a vibration in her pocket and pulled back.

‘Something wrong?’ he asked, a look of panic on his face.

‘No. My phone’s vibrating.’

‘Oh,’ he smiled.

She looked at the display and saw her colleague, DS Sian Mills was calling. Her pleasant evening with a handsome architect was ruined.

Chapter 4

2015 had not been a good year for Matilda Darke, professionally or personally. Once James had been diagnosed with a brain tumour, it had been a fast downward spiral. It wasn’t long before they were told his cancer was terminal and he had only a few months left to live.

Matilda decided to keep the news to herself. She didn’t want sympathy from her colleagues, offers to make her a casserole, or a bunch of flowers to cheer her up. Her sole task was to cherish the little time she and James had together, and at work, that meant acting as if everything was absolutely fine.

In the days before his death, seven-year-old Carl Meagan had been kidnapped from his home in Dore. His parents were away for the night in Leeds and he was being looked after by his maternal grandmother who was murdered by the kidnappers before they took Carl from his bed. The Meagans received a ransom demand for two hundred and fifty thousand pounds. As owners of a chain of successful organic restaurants throughout South Yorkshire, they were able to collect the money together and a date was fixed for the drop.

On the day of the trade, James Darke succumbed to his tumour and died in hospital with Matilda by his side. She told nobody and went to work in the afternoon as planned. Evening came, and she set off alone to Graves Park with a heavy bag full of money on the front passenger seat.

Looking back, she should have told her boss what was happening in her personal life. She should have taken compassionate leave and handed the case over to someone else. Her mind hadn’t been on the job and she had been in no fit state to work. Her eyes were blurred with tears as she drove through the dark streets of Sheffield and she headed for the car park, waiting for the call from the kidnappers. Unfortunately, she was in the wrong car park.

The kidnappers panicked and fled, taking Carl with them. Almost three years later, and neither Carl nor the kidnappers had been heard from since.

Carl would be eleven-years-old now and his mother refused to give up hope that one day he would be found. Matilda tried to continue, but it wasn’t easy. She was a changed woman and she believed she had Carl Meagan’s blood on her hands. There was no doubt in her mind that he was dead, that she’d failed the Meagan family. She would make sure it never happened again.

***

Following the phone call with Sian, Daniel realised tonight was not the night their relationship was going to take a leap in the right direction. He told Matilda to ring him and he left with the unopened bottle of champagne on the front passenger seat.

Matilda watched him go. She felt nothing for the ruined evening. There was only one thing on her mind – a child had been kidnapped for ransom. There was no way she could mess this case up. She’d let Carl slip through her fingers. She would stop at nothing to rescue a second child. Waiting for Sian to arrive was the longest twenty minutes Matilda had endured. Her mind went into overdrive as it came up with all kinds of scenarios based on the scant information her DS had given her. A child has been kidnapped. That was all Matilda needed to hear for the memories to come flooding back, to remove the hard work she had done over the past three years to restore her mental health. A child has been kidnapped. Who’d taken her? Why? What did they want? Was she already dead? Was Carl dead?

‘Jesus Christ,’ she said to herself as she bit down on her lip to stave off the tears. She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. It was selfish of her to think this, but why was this happening to her again, just as she was getting her life settled. Finally.

A child has been kidnapped.

‘FUCK!’ Matilda screamed loudly. The expletive resounded off the walls.

The doorbell rang and she ran to the solid door and pulled it open. Sian was standing there. Her face was ashen.

‘Are you all right?’ Sian asked.

‘No,’ Matilda replied honestly. ‘Come on in. The kettle’s not long since boiled.’

Sian placed her bag on the oak table and pulled out the form she had filled in while at the Armitage house. Matilda told her to help herself to whatever she wanted in the fridge while she tore through the report.

Matilda looked at the photo. ‘Blonde hair and blue eyes. Just like Carl.’

‘That’s what I thought too. Even Finn put two and two together.’

‘Tell me about the Armitages,’ Matilda said, pulling out a chair and sitting down.

‘Well, they’re a complete contrast to the Meagans. For a start, they don’t live in a big house. They don’t own restaurants and I doubt they’ve got fifty grand in the bank.’

‘So why target them?’

‘You tell me,’ she shrugged. ‘I didn’t go into any details with them – the mother was practically hysterical; understandable, really – but they have a young son, Riley. He’s severely disabled by the looks of him. I’m guessing any bit of money they have gets spent on caring for him.’

‘So, they’re not rich, and don’t seem to have a lot of money?’

‘No. The ransom makes no sense at all.’

‘Have you contacted the phone company and checked that a call was definitely made?’ Matilda asked.

‘Yes. Finn did that. He emailed me when I was on the way over here. A call was made to the house at seven minutes past four. It lasted less than a minute.’

Matilda frowned. ‘If you’re going to kidnap someone for ransom, you target someone who has plenty of money.’

‘Maybe the kidnapper knows something we don’t.’

‘But if you had money stashed away and had a severely disabled child, you’d be spending it on them to give them a better life, wouldn’t you?’

‘That’s what I’d do.’

‘Precisely. Like you said, either the kidnapper knows something about the family we don’t, or, it’s a hoax.’

‘A hoax? Why would someone claim to have kidnapped a child when they haven’t?’

Matilda returned to biting her bottom lip. Her eyes darted left and right as she tried to think. ‘To cover up another crime, perhaps?’

Sian was about to take a sip of ice-cold water when she stopped, the glass touching her lips. ‘Such as?’

Matilda looked away.

‘Keeley already being dead?’ Sian asked.

‘It’s possible.’

‘What are the alternatives?’

‘Children are usually kidnapped by a parent if the parents are divorced or a family member, for some deep-seated reason. If it’s for ransom then the family are usually well off. If that’s not the case here, and, as you say, it isn’t, then someone is playing a very dangerous game.’

‘Does that make our job easier or harder?’

Matilda ignored Sian’s question. She went over to the window and looked out at the expansive garden, but she wasn’t looking at the view. She was thinking of this poor girl. She was thinking of Carl Meagan, and she was thinking of herself. If Keeley was dead, then it had happened before the police had even become involved. Nothing they could do would bring her back to the family. She couldn’t be blamed like she was blamed for Carl’s disappearance.

She closed her eyes softly and shook her head, hating herself for thinking of her own reputation. Keeley may already be dead, but if that was the case, her murderer was out there and needed catching and Matilda would move heaven and earth to catch the sick bastard.

Chapter 5

The role of the Family Liaison Officer is that of an investigator. They gather evidence and information from the family to contribute to the investigation. It is important for the FLO to gain the trust and confidence of the family members who are their main source of support during such a difficult time.

Detective Constable Ellen Devonport was ideal for this role. An experienced and well-respected DC, she had taken further training in order to make her invaluable to South Yorkshire Police. Whenever an FLO was needed, she wanted her name to be the first mentioned by the senior investigating officer.

Sian had given her the basics of the Armitage kidnapping. It was imperative she was circumspect upon her arrival in case whoever was holding Keeley was watching the house. On her approach to the house, she pulled over in her battered Fiat Punto, and made a call to Craig’s mobile, telling him who she was and to act like he knew her personally when she knocked on the door. She parked outside the house and headed up the garden path, taking long strides, and looking determined. She had purposely dressed down for the occasion. Ellen usually took pride in her appearance, always smartly dressed, enough make-up to look professional yet accentuate her best features, with her chocolate brown wavy hair glossy and shiny and bouncing with every step. For this occasion, she’d dressed in comfortable jeans, a baggy sweater and an old pair of Converse trainers. She’d tied her hair back into a loose ponytail and had a black rucksack that had seen better days over one shoulder.

She knocked on the door and stood back. It was opened almost straight away by a tired looking Craig Armitage.

‘Craig, how are you? I’ve just heard. I thought you could do with a friendly face,’ she said. She walked past him into the house and waited until he closed the door before she dropped the character.

‘Good evening, Mr Armitage,’ she held out a hand for him to shake and was surprised by how light his touch was. ‘I’m DC Devonport. Ellen. I’m the Family Liaison Officer. How are you all doing?’ Her accent was soft Geordie, friendly and light.

She turned around at the sound of a cough coming from the kitchen and saw Jodie standing in the doorway with her arms folded. Her eyes were red from crying.

Once Ellen had explained what her purpose was for being here, Craig and Jodie went their separate ways. Linda was in no fit state to talk. She had cried herself to sleep. Craig was keeping a constant vigil, while Jodie was taking care of Riley in his bedroom. Ellen went to join her.

‘I’m guessing he likes penguins,’ Ellen said, noticing the all the stuffed penguins and pictures of them on the walls.

‘Yes,’ Jodie replied as she changed his nappy. ‘Pingu is the only programme he seems to respond to. We’re not sure why. When it’s on, there’s a change in his facial expression. It’s like he’s genuinely happy.’